


Confrontation

by screagleagle



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24999316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screagleagle/pseuds/screagleagle
Summary: A dead man walks into a bar. Just kidding, it's the living room.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Confrontation

It’s a regular assignment. Some kids swore they saw a mysterious monster near the creek, and then decided that every parent in the small town should know about it.

Mulder doubts that this is worth their time, but he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter. The parents are fearful, on-edge, and looking for something or someone to blame, which can only lead to disaster.

Scully’s with him as well, they walk around the cul-de-sac a few minutes away from said creek seeking something that they can present as evidence, no matter how small or insignificant.

The street is oddly quiet for a Sunday afternoon, with only the sound of birdsong alerting them to the presence of life.

Suddenly, Mulder’s ears narrow in on the smacking of rubber on wood. Across the street he sees two girls, identical and around pre-teen age, sitting on the porch of their moderately sized two-story house. One has her hair cropped up past her ears, the other has long flowing curls.

The one with the long hair is reading a book, while the other tries to convince her twin that they should be playing a game of basketball. She dribbles with one hand, seemingly showing off in an attempt to impress.

There's an old hoop in the driveway, partially held together with duct-tape at the back. The long-haired girl just continues reading on, obviously used to these attempts for attention.

The other reaches out to grab her sister's arm, forcing her to look up from her book, when she meets their gazes and looks directly at them. There’s no need for stealth anymore, not like they needed it anyways.

Mulder has a gut feeling that there’s something wrong here, but chalks it up to an empty stomach.

Scully makes the first move, trying to approach slowly enough as to not scare them, but also with enough strength to show authority. He tags along, trying to match her gait. When they reach the edge of the property, Scully calls out to the both of them.

The one with the short hair looks scared, but the long-haired girl shows no signs of fear. She puts down the book and marches over, trying to match Scully’s movements, before stopping right in front of them.

“We don’t talk to strangers. Who are you.” She spits out bluntly.

The two agents look at each other for a moment. Scully gives her partner a small nod.

Mulder reaches into his coat pocket slowly, and pulls out his badge.

“We’d just like to ask a few questions about the events reported here earlier this week.” He gives them what he hopes is a reassuring smile. The girl falters for a moment, her face dropping. She rebounds quickly, and if possible, only looks more agitated.

“Yeah, well, that only makes me distrust you even more.” She replies, brushing her curly hair over her shoulder. She’s wearing a long flowing dress, that some would say is reserved for fancy occasions, not porch-lounging.

There’s a coffee stain on the front. She makes no move to cover it.

Mulder and Scully look at each other again. There could be a lead here, but it seems that what they’ve walked into is more trouble than it’s worth. Besides, the whole thing appears to be a hoax, even to Mulder.

All of a sudden, the door swings open. A middle-aged man, with grey highlights and faint wrinkles on his face steps out, confused. He looks around, before meeting their gazes.

Instantly, his face hardens, just like the girls. He motions for them to come back inside, and they file behind him in an instant.

The one they just spoke to is giving them a bitter glare, while the other looks curious at the display.

He looks them up and down harshly, noticing their federal agent-esque attire, and moves to slam the door shut. They hear footsteps, but before they have a chance to react, another man is at the door. They can’t see his face, but they can hear him.

“What’s all the commotion about?” The voice sounds familiar, but Mulder and Scully can’t put their fingers on it. The man shifts forward past the door frame.

They recognize him.

* * *

He looks older than before, but he’s aged well for what they presume is a man who’s gone under a lifetime or two’s worth of stress. His hair is styled longer, thankfully without any of that grease he used to slather on as an FBI agent. He’s wearing an oversized teal sweater rolled up to his elbows and loose faded jeans.

Mulder would’ve made a snarky comment on the loss of his signature leather jacket, but then he noticed one hung up near the door.

 _Some things just don’t change_ , he says to himself.

Vince (the name of the first man, as they had just learned) clears his throat.

“My husband will be back in a minute. Take a seat, and I’ll bring you tea.”

He walks around the corner, into what Mulder assumes is the kitchen. Scully leads them to the couch.

Mulder thinks he should be angry, but he’s too in-shock to conjure up any kind of emotion, much less the taxing stupor of fury that he used to hold inside him. His former enemy, the back-stabbing bastard, was now “husband.” A family man with two daughters who lived on a fucking cul-de-sac, in a modest two-story home, located in the middle of suburban Connecticut.

He had never gone to trial, never been punished for his crimes, never had to face the music.

And he couldn’t even feel angry about it.

Vince brings three mugs of tea into the living room for them. The two children (Rebecca and Lily, he told them earlier) were up in their rooms, though Mulder suspected that the long-haired girl, Rebecca, was just up the stairs, looking for some kind of gossip to relay to the other.

Vince places the mugs in front of them, no emotion or hospitality visible on his face. He straightens up, and walks out with cold efficiency. There’s a fireplace in the other corner, fine china displayed on the mantle. Around the room are paintings of various sizes, with photos intermingled.

One shows Lily at a basketball game, jumping up to meet the hoop, a moment frozen in time. There’s family portraits too, which look so cheesy that even Mulder and Scully have elected to go without them for their own living room.

Another shows just Vince and Krycek, standing in front of a cliff overlooking the sea.

They’re smiling, with their arms around each other. The last one Mulder settles on shows a marriage ceremony. Krycek elected for a navy suit, the other a traditional black tux. They look like the perfect couple.

A minute later (he counted), Alex Krycek, who was buried 15 years ago, walks into the room. He sits down on the couch opposite them, and slouches down. He looks tired.

“Are you a danger to me or my children?” was the first thing to leave the mouth of the legally-dead man across the room. Scully, always calm and collected, meets the challenge head-on. 

“Of course not.” Scully pipes up, taking a sip of her tea. Mulder whips his head around to meet her eyes, but she’s staring straight ahead. She swallows.

“We won’t tell a soul.” she finishes with a smack of her lips.

Krycek still looks wary, but seems to have relaxed slightly. In the absence of noise, Mulder takes the opportunity to speak.

“What are you doing nowadays?” He asks awkwardly. Scully picks at a piece of lint on her suit.

“I’m a stay-at-home father. Vince works with computers.”

The room falls into further silence.

Krycek sighs, almost exasperated already by the experience.

“Rebecca and Lily are twins, 12 years old. We adopted them 5 years ago.”

This time, there’s no pause.

“Do they know?” It’s Scully’s turn to whip her head around, a stunned look on her face.

“Mul-“ She begins in a scolding voice, but is quickly interrupted.

“They know that I’ve hurt people. That I was a bad person.” Krycek meets Mulder’s gaze with renewed intensity.

“That I’ve killed people.” he finishes

The atmosphere now is stifled, dangerous. But now there’s no pretenses, no formalities to be kept up.

“How did you survive?”

Krycek just smirks.

“A man’s gotta have some secrets.” He picks up his own mug, and takes a sip. It’s his left arm that he uses. They can see his prosthetic work as he does so. Mulder can almost hear Scully working to catalogue what type he uses, probably for personal research she’ll do when they get back to the hotel.

“How have you stayed hidden for so long?” Scully is still nursing her mug. Mulder tells himself that he’s waiting for it to cool down, but in reality he’s worried about it being spiked with something. Krycek seems to have read his mind, and rolls his eyes.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done so already.” He gives Mulder a pointed look, and turns to meet Scully’s eyes.

“Like I said, Vince works with computers. It’s easy enough to forge documents if you know the right people.” He takes another sip from his mug.

“My name is Alexander now. I know, I know, not very secretive. Didn’t want to forget who I was all the time. I took Vince’s last name.” Under his breath, Krycek (Alexander?) mumbles.

“It’s not as if Alex was my birth name anyways.”

Mulder scoffs.

“Well, hello mister Alexander… ” Mulder realizes that he never got his last name.

Krycek jumps in. “Khachatryan, Alexander Khachatryan.”

They hear footsteps, and Vince is back in the room. He narrows his eyes.

“I think it’s time you left, Agents.” His voice leaves no room for argument. Krycek looks like he wants to say something, but keeps his mouth shut. They’re escorted out of the living room, and towards the front door.

Vince moves to lead them out, but Krycek just gives him a look, and he walks away with a glare. Krycek opens the door, but looks Mulder in the eyes as he does so. Taking the hint, Scully walks outside, and back towards the car. Alone.

“Krycek,” he begins, but the other man cuts him off.

“Do you want to know why I was in your apartment that night?” His voice cracks on the end of the sentence, a harsh contrast to the expression on his face.

Mulder just looks at him.

“I think I already know.”

He shuts the door in his face, and walks to their car, parked across the way. He gets in clumsily, and turns the car on. He looks back at the house. Rebecca is staring at him from the second-floor window. They drive away.

**Author's Note:**

> hi i have not watched any of the revival so ignore any inconsistencies there, as well as the fact that i wrote this in an hour. just felt like my boy should've been brought back and wanted to put my own spin on it. also: krycek gay.


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